


lonesome nights are over

by bicroft



Series: SidGeno Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Sleeptalking, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: Geno, if you asked him, would say he was a connoisseur of Sidney Crosby trivia. So, obviously he knew that Sid talked in his sleep.





	lonesome nights are over

**Author's Note:**

> someone on tumblr asked if I had posted my prompts on ao3- and, I had not, so, I figured I should
> 
> find me there @sidsknee, and feel free to hit me up with some prompts! 
> 
> "ANONYMOUS ASKED:  
> Hello! I was hoping to take advantage of you being awesome and offering to take sidgeno drabble prompts, if that's cool? I was thinking like, something about sid's sleeptalking habit (AKA when he shamelessly gushes over how hot/talented/perfect G is while he sleeps) and like flower and his road roommates are familiar with this but then Geno hears once and just like. Melts.)"
> 
> (title shamelessly stolen from the Chordettes' "Mr. Sandman")

Geno, if you asked him, would say he was a connoisseur of Sidney Crosby trivia. 

Of course, no one ever asked him- but, if you did, Geno would say that. He’d say it _jokingly_ , with a toothy grin and just enough of a wink that you’d know (think) he was kidding, but in reality, he really wasn’t. He knew a lot of things about Sid. 

Most of it just came with the territory of knowing him for any extended period of time, because Sid was an easy person to get to know, on the surface. He had predictable routines, and rituals Geno could time down to the second- and, since he’d started being involved in at least part of them, often had. He knew exactly the amount of time he needed to take getting ready and getting through his own routine to be ready just in time for his and Sid’s handshake, to make it look like he wasn’t waiting for it like some kind of eager child waiting for his crush to pass him in the hallway at school. 

(Except, that’s exactly what Geno was, and he knew it.)

Geno knew a lot about Sid, so, obviously he knew that Sid talked in his sleep. Talbo had said it before, and Flower had poked fun at him for it in the locker room, in the passing way people made fun of things all the time in  hockey. Flower laughed, and Sid laughed, and the team laughed, and that was that. Geno never thought to look too closely at it. Sid was weird in a lot of ways and honestly, it wasn’t like he was ever truly quiet, in person. He had no clue where people got the image of Sid being a quiet guy; he didn’t lead a public life, that was fact, but if anyone had any idea how much he talked on the bench or in the locker room,  that assumption would be dead in a second. 

He was sort of regretting not poking into it further, sooner, though, when Sid fell asleep on him waiting for their flight. It had been a long, tiring run; back to back to back West Coast games, two ending in OT- OT _wins_ , but OT was OT, and OT was fucking exhausting enough when you weren’t hours off from your internal clock. 

Geno wasn’t surprised when Sid nodded off, for that reason, and he wasn’t surprised when he heard the snuffling beginnings of his mumbling. He _was_ surprised, though, when he started hearing something close to his name. 

“Good goal, G.” Sid mumbled, and Geno didn’t even bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Of _course_ Sid dreamed about hockey. 

“So pretty,” Sid all but sighed, squirming enough in his little airport waiting chair to press his face into Geno’s neck like he was trying to make a home there. “Always so pretty.” 

Geno’s breath hitched, and he had to remind himself that Sid was dreaming about _hockey,_ not _him_ \- not really, not in the way Geno wanted him to be dreaming of him. 

Sid snuffled a little more, words becoming almost unintelligible, and Geno tried to force himself not to listen, but couldn’t. “So good,” Sid whispered, voice low, and Geno had to fight the urge to shiver. “You’re always… so good, and so pretty. You play the best hockey.”

“You okay, man?”

Geno almost jumped at the sound of Flower’s voice, but, his desire to not want to wake Sid up apparently won out over his fight-or-flight response. “Am fine.” he said quickly. “Sid- talking in my ear, is all.” 

“Oh.” Flower said, and the way he went pale for a second made Geno’s eyes narrow.  

“He’s talk about hockey.” Geno whispered, as if Sid could hear him. Sid slept on, though, mumbling about what Geno thought was faceoff techniques. “My hockey.”

“He does that.” Flower said with a shrug, and then clarified: “Talk about you, I mean. And hockey, but. Mostly your hockey.” 

Geno couldn’t help but blush, and feel a little smug. “Really?” he asked. 

“Just… let him dream, man.” Flower said, and the way he said it gave Geno a feeling that he was talking about a little more than sleep talking- but, it couldn’t be what Geno thought it was, so he had no idea how to read it. 

“I’m not wake him up.” he promised, and that seemed to satisfy Flower enough for him to turn back to whatever he was doing on his phone, and leave Geno to suffer in silence with his feelings, and Sid still whispering unintentional sweet nothings into his ear. 

“… love…” Geno’s ears picked up on the word, and he felt like the breath had been punched out of him. 

“What?” he asked quietly, tentatively. Sid was _asleep_ , so there was really no sense in trying, but- 

“You.” Sid sighed, trying to burrow his face into Geno’s neck again. “Love you.” 

Geno bit back a pained noise. “Me?” 

“You.” Sid repeated, and Geno wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or scream more. There was no _way_  Sid was actually talking to him, about him- but, then again, it didn’t seem like there was anyone _else_ he could mean. 

Luckily- or, unluckily; he didn’t have the emotional capacity to decide which at the moment- he didn’t get to hear anything more, because a loud ping from their departure board startled Sid awake. He blinked, slowly, and sat up straight, and Geno had to keep himself from making a sad noise and drawing him back. 

“S’it time to board?” Sid yawned, and Geno had to blink himself back to coherency for a moment before he could answer. 

“Uh- yes, is- board.” he said, stumbling over his words more than usual and hating himself a little for it. He wasn’t a _child_ ; he had no reason to be so flustered. 

Sid frowned at him, but, it really was time to board, so he didn’t say much more. 

Geno was saved by the grace of all powers that be and Sid’s own rituals from sitting with him on the ride home, though he did get the full force of the glare of the French-Canadian Inquisition as they passed him. He just stared at them helplessly, and tried to curb the somehow simultaneously fluttery and sinking feeling in his stomach. Sid couldn’t have been talking about him, he reminded himself, even as the fluttery part went _but what if he was, but what if he was!_

Geno didn’t ask; he didn’t ask on the plane, or once they’d gotten off and parted ways. In fact, he didn’t even stop when Sid looked like _he_ had something to ask him as he was grabbing his luggage, hiding instead behind Horny and taking off at the first chance he got, begging exhaustion. 

And he _was_ exhausted, and he _did_  collapse into bed the moment he stepped inside his bedroom, fully dressed, and with _he couldn’t have been, but what if he was/he couldn’t have been, but what if he was_  dancing through his head the whole way down into a fitful sleep. 

He wasn’t excited to be woken up by someone aggressively ringing his doorbell, and was _definitely_ preparing to be a little rude to some solicitors when he opened the door and found a drained looking Sid standing there instead, rubbing his eyes and looking like he’d stepped right out of bed and onto Geno’s front steps. 

Geno had to take a moment to wet his suddenly dry lips before he spoke. “Morning, Sid.” he said, as casually as he could manage. 

“Morning,” Sid said back, but it was rushed, and Geno could tell that there was more he had to say. “Did you, uh, sleep well?”

“Sleep fine.” Geno lied, and he knew Sid could tell, too. “You?”

“Fine.” Sid said in reply, also lying, so at least he wasn’t going to call Geno out on that. “Listen, are you- okay?”

“Yes, fine. Feel fine.” Geno said, frowning. He hadn’t taken any particularly brutal hits during the last night’s game, so there was really no need for Sid to be concerned.

“You- kinda ran off, last night, before I could ask.” Sid said, shuffling a little nervously. If his hands were any deeper in his pockets, Geno would be worried about him breaking through. “Flower kinda… implied something happened, and that I should talk to you about it.” 

 _Oh._ “You talk in your sleep.” Geno blurted before he could stop himself. 

Sid looked confused. “Uh, yeah?” he said. “I thought you knew that.”

“I’m know, yes.” Geno said. “Know you talk, think you talk hockey, not think you talk about _me_.” 

All the color drained from Sid’s face. “I- oh. God. You heard that?” he asked, sounding almost breathless. “What did I say?” 

“Tell me I’m make good goal.” Geno said, because he couldn’t stop himself now; he needed _answers._ “Say I play pretty hockey- say _I_ pretty, always pretty. Talk about faceoffs, a little, and then… and then say love. Say you love me.” 

“Oh _god_.” Sid sounded wrecked, and not at all the way Geno wanted him to be. He sounded like he wanted to _cry_. “Shit, shit, Geno, I’m so _sorry_ , I didn’t- if I could reign it in, I could, and I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.” 

Geno blinked, and frowned. He reached out, first instinct to comfort Sid, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Why sorry?” he asked. “Nothing be sorry for. You… not mean me, yeah? Not like that. Love my hockey, you mean, yes?”

Sid’s silence was more telling than anything he could have said. Geno felt like he’d been punched, again; really, he needed to get better at anticipating things. He couldn’t let Sid take his breath away like this _all_ the time. 

“You mean?” he asked, and Sid was silent again- he did give a slight incline of his head, though, and Geno made a strangled noise. “Oh, _Sid_.”

“I’m sorry.” Sid said, sounding wrecked, still, and on the verge of tears. Geno made another noise, distressed this time, and pulled him closer to his chest. 

“No sorry,” he said quickly. “No take back, promise?”

“I… yeah.” Sid said. His voice was mostly muffled in Geno’s shoulder, but, he sounded confused. “Yeah, I promise, but-” 

“Love you too.” Geno said, and it was Sid’s turn to sound punched out. “Love you too, Sid, of course; silly, think I don’t.”

“ _Oh_.” Sid said, pulling back a little to look at Geno. He still looked kind of teary, but, at least it was in a good way. “ _God_ , Geno.” 

“You wake me up.” Geno said after a brief pause, trailing back until he had both of Sid’s hands in his. “Love you, Sid, very much, but early.”

“Oh, sorry.” Sid said, he he started to pull away. “I can come back-”

“Come _inside_.” Geno corrected gently, tugging him over the threshold. “Sleep. We sleep, wake up, I make you breakfast, we talk and kiss.” 

“Oh,” Sid said, the word almost a breath. He was smiling now, eyes crinkled in the way Geno adored, always proud when he got it there. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.” 

“Best,” Geno crowed, and Sid laughed, even as Geno tugged him upstairs and into bed, arranging him just so, so that Sid’s face was pillowed on his shoulder like it had been last night. Sid relaxed into it easily, and Geno couldn’t fight a grin as he closed his eyes. 

He didn’t fall back asleep for awhile, not really, but in a few moments, and with a little hair-petting and coaxing, Sid was out like a light, murmuring gently in Geno’s ears about what he thought was skate blades and even ice. 

It wasn’t declarations of love, or compliments on his game- but, if Geno could get those in the waking hours, now, he’d take it.


End file.
